Red chair on the lawn;
My friend was there yesterday.
Today she is gone.
Sharp morning shadows
Conceal the hanging swing
Which no children climb.
Why does that cock crow?
What is he really saying?
(Or just mouthing off?)
Shadows guard the road
That wanders mysterious
Towards an unseen house.
Beyond the shadows
Bike reclines upon the lawn.
Perfect inertia.
By the dead tree stump;
On the decomposing log;
Vibrant green life springs.
A swirl of brown leaves
Bursts into the breezy air
Floating, slicing, down.
Dead squirrel on the road;
Gust of wind ruffles its tail--
Illusion of life.
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